


and even the next time —

by fogged



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Reincarnation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fogged/pseuds/fogged
Summary: in every lifetime, johnny makes sure he finds and falls in love with doyoung. in a twist of fate, doyoung keeps looking for johnny in this one, even when johnny slips through his fingers.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 14
Kudos: 73





	and even the next time —

tucked in the corner of the street, the inconspicuous neighbourhood cafe is surprisingly cozy with its muji-style pine wood furniture lining the well-lit space, along with its airy ceilings. the open-style barista counter and roasting bar is visible right from the cafe’s entrance, and every customer would be instantly drawn to the head barista (and co-owner) busying himself with the coffee orders.

and not surprisingly, doyoung found himself staring at the head barista for a second too long, as his eyes took the taller male’s facial features in, being unable to register that someone so handsome could exist. in his dizzy wide-eyed admiration of the barista’s beauty, doyoung noticed the surprise that lit johnny’s (that’s what it says on his name tag) eyes up the moment they locked eyes — _huh? do we know each other?_

doyoung blinks and the murmuring of the coffee machines and chatter from the customers rush into his ears. “um, sir? what can i get you today?” johnny laughs awkwardly, and bites his lips.

“one iced vanilla latte please, decaf.”

doyoung plonks himself onto a cosy armchair in the corner, the only remaining quiet spot in the cafe. his coffee sits comfortably on the table, with the letter “D” scrawled neatly on the side.

_huh. i don’t remember being asked for my name though? or… fuck, was i so nervous and awed by that handsome barista that i fucking forgot whether he asked me for my name?_

doyoung sighs and exhales loudly, blowing his bangs upwards. he steals a glance at the counter, and accidentally meets eyes with johnny AGAIN. johnny grins in response and gestures towards his hair — doyoung flushes in embarrassment as he pats his bangs down, and goes back to staring intensely at his laptop. he has better things to worry about than this hot coffee stranger and how good he looks like in his barista apron…….. such as an impending book deadline.

writer’s block is a shitty excuse but that’s what doyoung has been stuck with for the past three weeks. he has fuelled himself with caffeine, alcohol, fresh air from walks in the park, and all sorts but inspiration never hit. but today, today felt a little different.

the next time doyoung looks up, he realises it’s 8pm (he has been writing for 9 hours) and customers have all dwindled to the point where the cafe’s r&b music can be heard clearly over the speakers. he stretches and yawns, leaning back against the armchair and glancing at the counter again.

johnny is singing softly to the music. in the most calming manner. there’s something about his voice that reminds doyoung of something…. the scent of fresh linen? a warm infectious laugh?

doyoung can’t quite put his finger to it, but something about johnny’s voice sends tingles down his fingers, reminiscent of the sensation that rushes through his spine when he hears wind chimes running to the rhythm of the wind.

he frowns, _but if i’ve met such a handsome man before, i am pretty sure i would remember him. but there’s just something so, so…….so achingly familiar about his voice…. and his 1.85m stature……_

so he does something. maybe it’s because he feels great that his writer’s block has been lifted, or maybe because he thinks johnny is a good source of inspiration, but he walks over to the counter after packing up and tips a paper napkin with his name and digits scribbled on it into johnny’s palms.

“um, so i write, and i thought you would be, um, good to write about? i don’t know — there’s just this vibe you have. so, um. okay, um, if you want to chat, or something, just text me. um, no pressure — just if —”

johnny breaks into soft laughter, and his eyes curve into mini-crescents. doyoung's heart swells. _there’s something about the way he laughs, like i’ve seen it before or something_ — “yeah, doyoung, i will text you. no problem at all.”

doyoung laughs out loud, relieved that he didn’t do something embarrassing again, and locks eyes with johnny’s hazel brown pupils again ( _third time, if you weren’t counting_ ) and something clicks in the back of his mind. a birthmark on a hip, brown eyes, fingers grazing piano keys and… coffee. huh.

johnny leans over the counter, and says gently, “i’ve been waiting for you. i will defo drop you a text.”

doyoung blinks his confusion away and mutters a goodbye before leaving.

doyoung receives johnny’s message just when he gets out from the shower.

“hey doyoung!”

“ _ugh, fuck…………… who is this guy??? why am i getting these — these random images whenever i listen to him talk? fuck, am i going crazy? or am i just like deprived of love?”_ doyoung grunts and tosses his towel angrily onto his bed, biting his bottom lip as he tries to formulate a response.

“hey johnny @.@"  
“um yeah, i just thought you had a good vibe i could bounce some writing off. would you be free to chat anytime? like i can go over to your cafe and just — anytime really”

never in his lifetime did doyoung think he would have been capable of scribbling his phone number onto paper napkins to try to pick strangers up — but to be fair, he wasn’t just trying to chat this hot barista up…. right? he was trying to write and get paid. right. and also to be fair, johnny was FLIRTING with him right? the eye contact and the whole thing about waiting for him…. yes?

“yeah ofc, i’m in the cafe everyday so.. anytime on my side too”  
“and also, dude i have a new strawberry milk latte recipe i really want to try out. care to be my guinea pig?”

doyoung giggles. strawberry milk…………. lucky for johnny, doyoung adores strawberry milk. what other 24 year old male would be into strawberry milk though?

“haha, i love strawberry milk! i will see you tomorrow afternoon at around 2pm?”

“knew it! see you then doyoung :)”

doyoung goes to sleep that night with a stupid grin plastered all over his face, for the first time in a very long while.

like a nervous high schooler going on his first date, doyoung spent an excruciatingly long amount of time fussing over his outfit and hair, before giving up and just throwing on a random sweater and an oversized wool coat. he pulls his sneakers on hastily while checking the time on his phone — before freaking out because it’s 10 minutes to 2pm and it takes half an hour to get to johnny’s cafe.

when doyoung arrives at the cafe, johnny is leaning against the glass panel, decked in a flannel outerwear with his leather tote slung casually across his shoulders. he spots doyoung from a distance and waves, and doyoung’s eyes are immediately drawn to the strawberry milk latte he’s holding in his other hand.

johnny grins, _god where is he getting his infectious levels of energy from?_ and hands the latte over to doyoung before reaching out to tousle the younger’s hair. he gets embarrassed two seconds later, and sheepishly laughs it off before quipping “sorry, you were just too cute.”

doyoung feels his heart palpitate as he tries very hard to sip the latte calmly after muttering an apology for being late. johnny peeks into the cafe and yells at the handsome barista behind the counter ( _seriously, what’s with this cafe and hiring handsome men?_ ), “yuta! i’m leaving for the day, mark will be here soon after school to help you out. call me if anything urgent crops up.”

the handsome barista in long silver hair glances up at both doyoung and johnny, smirks smugly and winks in response. doyoung’s cheeks instantly flush a deep shade of red while johnny chuckles, pulling doyoung by the elbow down the street.

“the weather is too good today~ to spend it cooped inside so i thought we could chat by the river — how’s the latte by the way?” doyoung doesn’t notice but he’s already halfway through the beverage. “dude, it’s good. like really good, it’s not too sweet or anything but maybe that’s cause i like strawberry milk.”

johnny laughs again, and the vibration of his familiar laughter rings through doyoung’s ears. “johnny, how did you — how did you know i like strawberry milk?”

they arrive at the river, and johnny gestures to a bench situated right under a huge cherry blossom tree. he sits and leans backwards casually, his left arm resting on the backrest of doyoung’s spot. “i don’t know. just a guess anyway, i think most cute guys like strawberry milk.”

doyoung blushes again and leans backwards into his seat, trying not to pay attention to the physical contact between his shoulder and johnny’s fucking huge bicep.

“um, yeah, anyway i write. like, for a living. i just haven’t been able to write in a long while but yesterday — i don’t know, i saw you, and managed to keep writing. like heck, i’m done with 3 chapters.”

johnny tilts his head, and smiles gently, “what — so am i your muse or something?”

doyoung chokes on his milk latte, and nudges johnny’s ribs with his elbow. “what the fuck? are you a hopeless romantic or something?”

at this point, johnny is already sitting sideways and staring very intensely at doyoung. “yeah, i think i am. at least with you.” he sighs, and runs his fingers through his brown hair. “i mean like, when you walked into the cafe, i thought you were really really — ” he stops and locks eyes with doyoung, “really, cute. but i was thinking of how it might be creepy if i tried to hit on you and you just won’t come to the cafe anymore and i wouldn’t be able to see you again. so like, i’m really glad you came up to me first. even if you aren’t trying to hit on me, but yeah, i guess i am trying to chat you up right now.”

johnny tries to hide any awkwardness with his infectious laughter, so he lets out a chuckle.

doyoung blinks, trying to process this piece of information without his cheeks burning up. “wow, um, okay. okay. we can do this anyway, i mean i write well when i look at you — so yeah if this is a hopeless romantic writer thing, i would take it any day with such a ho- good looking barista.”

johnny chuckles loudly, and leans in to whisper, “yeah, i’m sure this hot barista won’t disappoint you, mr writer.”

doyoung then does something he doesn’t think he was capable of doing, but in that moment, he leaned in to plant his lips on johnny’s plump, pink and soft-looking lips. they felt exactly like what they looked, but possibly better, and the kiss was gentle and soft.

johnny laughs again halfway through the kiss. “damn, doyoung. you’re so fucking cute.”

he tousles doyoung’s hair again, _looks like this is going to be a habit._

the spring breeze runs through the cherry blossoms, and the tree sheds some of its petals. _a fucking romantic scene, perfect for hopeless romantic johnny_ , doyoung thought to himself as he stares quietly at the older male who’s staring peacefully at the blossoms in the afternoon sun. 

they talked as they laid on the grass, basking in the spring sun. doyoung got his journal out to make notes that he could use for his writing, but that tattered book was forgotten 10 minutes into the conversation. he learns that johnny grew up in chicago and moved back to seoul because he wanted to open a cafe. he also learns that johnny loves camping and drives a remodelled vintage car that can be assembled into a campervan. he also realises that johnny is probably the most easy-going person he has met, and his laughter fucking sends tingles down his spine, especially when he stares right into doyoung’s eyes whenever he talks.

doyoung also talks about himself. surprisingly, again, something he doesn’t think he was capable of doing, baring his whole soul to a stranger he just met. but there was just something about johnny, the way he listened attentively with puppy eyes and chipped in in the warmest manner, and how he would intertwine his fingers with doyoung whenever he talks. doyoung felt comfortable with johnny, as if they’ve known each other for a long while - doyoung talks about his writing aspirations, how he had to work part time jobs to make ends meet when he first started writing, how his mother almost disowned him when he dropped out of university, how his older brother was practically his best friend and how it was so hard for doyoung to deal with the distance when his brother was busy pursuing his acting career.

they talked and talked, until the sun set and the chilly evening wind gets a little too overbearing for both of them. both of them decide to get some stew for dinner, in a small cosy family restaurant and johnny aptly reminds the auntie to leave the pickled cucumbers out of the side dishes. _did i tell him that earlier? is his memory that good?_ doyoung can’t actually remember if he told johnny about his peculiar eating preferences, but for the love of god, they’ve talked so much in the afternoon that it’s not surprising if he somehow revealed that.

both of them step out of the family restaurant into the chilly night, with johnny’s arm propped around doyoung’s shoulder. “it’s soooooo cold nowwwww”, johnny whines cutely. “do we have to part ways now?” he asks cutely, half-joking but his hazel brown eyes mean otherwise.

yet again, doyoung does something he never thought he would have done. “johnny, do you want to come over to mine?”

the soft sun rays peek into doyoung’s neat studio room, while the remnants of the overnight-lit scented candle whiffs into doyoung’s nose. he rubs his eyes groggily, and realises he’s leaning on johnny’s _extremely_ muscular chest. surprisingly, johnny was shy, nervous and extremely gentle yesterday night, and doyoung’s cheeks burn up again at the thought of flesh meeting flesh and interlaced fingers. johnny was fast asleep, shirtless, with doyoung in his embrace like his bolster. the writer peers up and stares at sleepy johnny, before bopping him on the nose to wake him up.

johnny grunts, mumbling, “mmmm, coffee. coffee please.. coffee……..”

doyoung chuckles, _what a barista…._ “um, are you sure you don’t want to leave? is staying for breakfast a thing for you?”

johnny’s eyes shoot wide open, tightening his grip around doyoung’s waist. “what do you mean staying for breakfast — fuck, i will stay all the way till dinner if i could, doie.”

they laugh, and johnny’s deep vibrating laughter sends tingles down doyoung’s spine again. the smaller boy clasps johnny’s bristly chin in his palms and leans in for a kiss again. of course, they did not have breakfast that day.

doyoung becomes a permanent fixture in johnny’s cafe. if johnny is busy at the barista counter, doyoung’s head is buried in his laptop, typing out paragraphs one after another. if johnny is free and doyoung is having his five minute break, they fool around together making weird coffee concoctions or go off for a quickie in the storeroom. mark and yuta naturally grew accustomed to doyoung’s presence in the cafe, and doyoung gets so comfortable with the entire cafe’s crew that they go out for drinks, sometimes in johnny’s absence.

johnny goes back home for this one weekend, and doyoung gets cup ramen with yuta at the convenience store next door. yuta has been in a pensive mood for the whole evening, and in the midst of waiting for their cup ramen to be cooked, he quips, “doyoungie, what would you do if — if johnny forgot everything about you one day?”

doyoung freezes, chopsticks hovering in the warm air above his cup ramen. “well, it would suck, but it’s not going to happen, or at least not now when amnesia hasn’t set in yet. he’s too young for that shit.”

the silver-haired male rubs his temples and sighs. “he got his results from his check-up yesterday, and he has retrograde amnesia. i don’t even know how it works but he’s pretty freaked out about it, he passed me all the documents for the cafe today for me to read over — he says it’s just in case but i don’t know — ” yuta exhales loudly, “i’m sorry i should have waited for him to tell you first, but i tried to get him to tell you immediately but he said he wasn’t going to tell you until he felt like he was starting to forget things. i don’t know, i googled the condition, he’s going to start forgetting his recent memories, and you guys only met for 5 months and i don’t know — oh i — ”

yuta breaks off, and starts sobbing into his palms.

doyoung shoves handfuls of cup ramen into his mouth, barely processing its stale taste and the sinking feeling in his stomach. 

they say that staying positive helps keep the patient in good spirits and increases chances of recovery. so doyoung doesn’t ever break down or freak out in front of johnny.

the night yuta broke the news to doyoung, doyoung went home to find photographs he took together with johnny, souvenirs of their dates like ticket stubs, and realised he didn’t have that many pictures he took of johnny because johnny was always the photographer, snapping random moments of doyoung whenever they spent time together. he then found this one film picture of doyoung brushing his teeth and johnny smiling goofily in the mirror’s reflection and started crying. he bawled into his pillow for the entire night/

they talk about it calmly when johnny returns from his weekend trip to his family home, and johnny reassures doyoung, with his hand resting firmly on doyoung’s thigh and his hazel brown eyes boring into doyoung’s soul, he mutters “i will be fine, i promise. i will tell you if i’m not. you’ll be the first to know…. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you about this first.”

doyoung spends almost every hour at johnny’s cafe, or at johnny’s terribly messy place, because he wants to be there when it happens. “but doyoung, it’s not going to happen like bam, just like that. it’s probably going to be gradual, like when i forget where i’m going or when i forgot the recipe for this one coffee order — i’m not going to suddenly degenerate into an imbecile if you know what i mean.” johnny mentions very casually as he sits behind the kitchen counter, watching doyoung cook.

doyoung stops stirfrying the beef, turns back to stare at johnny, and quietly replies, “and i don’t even know which type of — degeneration would be easier for me. or you. or us.”

johnny looks at him silently, the glimmer in his brown puppy eyes extinguished.

doyoung finishes his book. it has an end-of-the-world apocalyptic theme that johnny somehow inspired a few months back. strangely befitting for this situation.

he visits johnny at the cafe, and tells him this good news. johnny reads it in one sitting, seated right opposite doyoung, in 3 hours to be exact.

doyoung looks up from a dog video on his phone to see johnny crying in front of doyoung’s laptop, sniffling uglily into his sweater. doyoung panics, and grabs paper towels from the counter, dabbing continuously at johnny’s cheeks.

in doyoung’s book, d calls j over just before the world is ending. they’ve broken up about two years ago but d can’t get over him and can’t think of anyone else he wants to spend the end of the world together with. he recalls that j has a camper van and hey, if they’re all going to die, they should go camping together, watch the sunrise at some beautiful lake, and wait for the meteorite to strike and turn into dust right after. the best thing is j surprisingly obliges to this crazy request, and it’s like the past two years of distance went to nought because they fall back comfortably into their past rhythm and nature’s fascinating lull fills up any silences in their conversations, and they die holding each other when the meteorite explodes in their face —

 _that’s probably why johnny cried. it is quite a sick and sad story._ doyoung thought as he waited for johnny to blow his nose and compose himself.

“doie — i’m going to tell you something that will freak the fuck out of you. i didn’t ever want to tell you but i think at this point, i will forget if i don’t get it out of my mouth soon. we are soulmates. like we are soulmates.”

“um — yeah, johnny, babe, i love you too —“

“no, like, not figuratively. i transcended, like 6 timelines and parallel worlds before i met you. in all past 6 dimensions, i’ve met you, recognised you, fell in love with you, but it didn’t ever work out. you either didn’t love me back or met some fucking tragic end. it sounds fucking crazy, but it’s — it’s like reincarnation you know? just that every time i die i meet you in some way or another, and i figured that’s what my calling was — to find you, to love you but it doesn’t ever work out. i don’t know, i thought it would work this time round.”

doyoung freezes.

“like, when we first met, i knew everything about you. i knew it was you. when you walked into the cafe, i almost yelped out in happiness. but i didn’t want to scare you away. i’ve done that once in a previous lifetime and you pushed me away. i knew about your strawberry milk obsession, your hatred towards cucumbers, your sleeptalking, your sensitivity to smell — everything. i’ve met you so many times i can memorise everything about you from the back of my head — oh,” johnny chuckles dryly, “only this time, i probably can’t remember everything soon.”

“so, johnny — you mean you were the only one who remembered? in all past lifetimes? because i —”

johnny nodded silently and looked away, breaking eye contact with doyoung.

“doie, this story you wrote. maybe you remember something. i’m not sure, but this was 3 lifetimes ago. we did have this — this strange post-apocalyptic thing. um, you actually sang “if the world was ending” on the phone to get me to come over, and i cried on the other end of the line and came over immediately. we spent our last week together in your glass apartment, and you left first. you crumbled into dust while we were watching the sunset and listening to wind chimes. i shot myself after you disappeared.”

“are you joking right now, johnny? this sounds like — ”  
something clicks in doyoung’s mind. since the day he first met johnny, he always found his voice and laughter strangely familiar and soothing, just like wind chimes dancing in the breeze.

johnny leans over, intertwining his fingers with doyoung’s, and stroking the back of the younger’s palm with his thumb. _god, his hand is huge and so so so warm._ “no, i, i wish i was kidding.”

doyoung picks up on all the small signs even when johnny refuses to acknowledge them. johnny would be walking around the apartment, trying to either get some milk or to wash up, and he will stop mid-way, confused and unsure of what to do next.

there was also an instance when a customer ordered a chai latte, and johnny blanked out, before asking the customer what a chai latte was. thankfully yuta was there to step in, and handled that order.

there was another time when doyoung was cooking curry at johnny's place one day and he sent the older male out to the grocery store opposite to get potatoes. but johnny had already been gone for an hour, an unnecessarily long duration for a grocery run. doyoung rung johnny up and johnny picked up, utterly confused by what he was doing outside. "i — i thought i just wanted to come out for a walk. i'm at the skate park now watching people skate — " doyoung got johnny to send him his location and went over to pick the frazzled 1.84m male up, interlocking his fingers with johnny's so tightly on the walk home that he couldn't even feel his hands shake from the fear of losing johnny. 

because there were 6 different lifetimes they spent together, there were so many stories johnny had to tell doyoung about. it was crazy just imagining it, but everything sounded so vivid, so real, and so raw — johnny always cried so much recounting these stories.

if johnny said he had doyoung’s soul burned and imprinted in his memories, doyoung was sure he could recite almost everything about johnny in this lifetime. he propped himself up on his elbows, staring at the curve of johnny’s nose and his soft eyes, feeling the warmth of johnny’s palm beneath his, preparing for tonight’s story time.

there was one lifetime when doyoung was an idol. he was born for the stage, belting his vocals out in sold-out stadiums. johnny was a fan, fuck, he even became a fansite manager just to get closer to doyoung. he bought albums after albums to get into fansigns, for doyoung to smile politely and remember johnny’s name (because johnny was there for every damn event). but that was it. just an idol and a fan. a distance that could not be closed no matter how hard johnny tried. so johnny gave up. he spent the rest of that lifetime watching doyoung from a distance, sometimes through the lens of a camera, because hey, no one can capture doyoung on camera better than him — _i mean, who else actually loved doyoung for lifetimes to count?_

johnny was a photographer in almost every lifetime, the camera followed him somehow, even when it wasn’t his career. in this other lifetime, johnny is 50 years old and still hasn’t met doyoung. he was contemplating ending his life in this timeline since maybe there was a glitch in the system because _where was doyoung?_ he was on set one day photographing this advertisement for a luxury brand, when a nervous young intern enters the room, hastily passing some documents to the brand’s team. the nervous young intern was a familiar face, one that johnny could pick out in a room filled with people. he was probably 18? 19? the nervous doyoung was then sent back to the office, but not before johnny tried to pass him his name card and casually suggest an internship at his company. in all honesty, it was a far reach. he never heard back from the young doyoung.

and johnny’s very first encounter with doyoung goes back a long time ago into historical joseon era. johnny was the son of a noble aristocrat who was a close friend of the crown prince, whose son happened to be doyoung. they both grew up together, studying and playing their whole childhood away. as time passed, doyoung naturally became the crown prince and johnny was his right-hand man, but in other words, his most trusted servant. doyoung got married, had kids, but spent more time with johnny than back home. they would spend nights watching the stars in the pavilion together, discussing politics in the study and sparring with their swords in the yard. a nasty rumour got out when a servant found a love letter addressed to johnny under doyoung’s pillow, and the emperor had to put this issue to rest. he fired johnny, under the pretext of incompetency and inability to give constructive help to any political situation, and johnny was banished from the palace. the last time he saw doyoung, the crown prince hugged him and cried so much that johnny’s silk robe was soaked. in the letter, doyoung thanks johnny for being the best brother figure to him ever, and confesses that sometimes he gets confused, because he thinks he loves johnny. he then mentions that johnny was meant for greater things in life, and he’s sorry he made johnny stay by his side. after johnny got banished, he travelled the world with the hefty fortune he got from his royal duties, and went around taking photographs of places and people. when he died, he left the photographs to doyoung, who later became the emperor and displayed these photographs in the palace. they are now displayed in the national museum as important archival photographs.

johnny’s amnesia pills always make him fall asleep within an hour or so. this went on for the past month, right after his latest check-up, so johnny’s voice trails on halfway through one of his stories, and a light snore escapes his mouth. doyoung always tucks johnny into bed, arranging his soft toys neatly next to him, so his hands can find them when he’s asleep. yuta once made fun of how doyoung was a perfect match for johnny, because johnny snores so much and doyoung sleeptalks a lot, and that it forms a perfect orchestra at night. johnny also once joked that he probably won't forget anything at this rate, not with doyoung’s incessant nagging habits. doyoung shakes his head and laughs quietly, stroking johnny’s hair as he takes the barista’s sleeping form in. _johnny is really a big big big baby_ , doyoung thinks to himself, as he watches johnny hug his stuffed rabbit tightly.

johnny was right, the amnesia is gradual. but even without the immediacy, it is still hard to accept when it finally settles in.

johnny woke up that morning, with doyoung asleep next to him. he cautiously gets out of the bed and washes up quietly before heading to the cafe.

doyoung wakes up to a blue post-it note on the bedside lamp, confused by the fact that johnny didn’t make his morning brew or kiss him awake that day. “hey stranger! help yourself to coffee if you need a cuppa, and please lock the door behind you when you leave. sorry i didn’t get your name yesterday.”

he inhales sharply, and pulls out a leather-bound journal of photographs and short excerpts he collected and wrote over the past few months — filled to the brim with their memories and happy little faces in those faded polaroids. doyoung leaves it on johnny’s bedside table, crossing out the message johnny wrote and scribbling “it’s doyoung”.

maybe doyoung was a coward. maybe he just can’t deal with the truth. but he didn’t go back to johnny’s or the cafe after that morning. not for two whole months at least. it was so so so tough, because every waking moment he spent at home — he could sense johnny in every crevice and corner of his space. johnny’s scent lingered, even when doyoung lit up candles after candles to try to get johnny out of his mind. johnny’s flannels and oversized pullovers occupied an entire section of doyoung’s wardrobe, because he just couldn’t bear to throw them out. even johnny’s fucking coffee brewing machine was there in the kitchen. _but he didn’t fall out of love with me, i can’t just throw it away_. doyoung busied himself with writing, editing, and meeting book publishers. his book was finally coming to fruition and he tried to spend as much time away from home as possible.

clutching the blue hardback cover book close to his chest, doyoung trudged down an all-too-familiar street, and made his way to a cafe he knew at the back of his hand. johnny once joked that it was hilarious how he was always the one remembering everything in every lifetime, and he was always the one searching for doyoung and doyoung always got the lucky end of the deal.

doyoung pushed the glass door open and there johnny was, in full glory. _the insufferable thing about everything is how johnny still looks so good even when he can barely remember shit._ doyoung bites his lower lip, steeling his will to walk towards the counter and hand his book to johnny.

johnny greets him, with an all-too-familiar smile. “hi! what can i get you?”

doyoung tries not to break down, and shoves the book into johnny’s hands, “i — i just wanted to pass this to you. you — wrote part of this book. i’ll get going now.”

johnny blinks, confused, but doyoung has already made his way to the exit even before johnny could respond. johnny flips to the front page of the book:

“you’ve suffered the past few lifetimes, but maybe this lifetime it’s my turn to love you more, and even in the next.”

johnny blinks, reaching into his backpack under the counter to pull a leather-bound notebook with a blue post-it plastered on top. he turns to yuta, who has been observing everything quietly from the back, and yuta nods. once, twice.

“doyoung! doyoung!”

doyoung has lost it. he couldn’t even register johnny’s facial expression before bursting out into tears and leaving the cafe. and for fuck’s sake, now he’s fucking imagining johnny shouting his name.

with tears clouding his vision, doyoung can barely see what’s in front of him properly, as he sniffles aggressively. someone with a metal grip grabs him by the shoulders and he hears “DOYOUNG!” in his right ear. doyoung tries to blink the tears and bewilderment away, before realising that that’s johnny. johnny, in the flesh, screaming at him. johnny reaches out to caress doyoung’s cheeks, but hesitates, and instead grabs a tissue from his pocket to dab doyoung’s face dry, laughing awkwardly _and bringing back flashbacks of wind chimes singing beautifully in the breeze._

“um, hi. i’ve been waiting for you. i’m johnny. nice to meet you again.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry i don't know if this is coherent or if it makes sense but i tried to make this as concise as possible without diluting the emotions. i hope that got conveyed somehow but i cried writing this and i do hope you felt some sort of emotions as you were reading this too!


End file.
